After some twenty minutes and constant reassurances, Frederick was finally able to bring the conversation to an end. He had made a note of the hotel in which Solomon and Natasha were staying and the name under which they had booked in. He flipped through his notebook and found the number for Jane Spencer-Brown.
'Jane.'
'It’s Frederick, the Duke of Hertfordshire, I'm afraid that it is I who needs your help.' He explained the phone call from Solomon and that her late mother was a member of Group 79. He left out the relationship the two had enjoyed; after all, it's personal and doesn't have any bearing on the situation, well not much.
'I can't express how important it is that she and her daughter are brought back here safely. It's imperative.'
'I will do what I can. You have my word on that. I'll be in touch.'
Jane dialled the number for George's phone, which was still in the possession of Jayanti Kapoor. Jay took the phone into her private bathroom, out of earshot of her bodyguards, once the door was closed she answered. Jane explained about the phone call from the Duke. Jay listened patiently for Jane to finish.
'I take it from this call that you do not think you are in a position to fetch this Solomon woman and her daughter on your own.' Jay inquired.
'No, I don't. The Duke emphasised how important he felt it was and that she was in danger. I don't mind going into dangerous situations but, frankly, I have no expertise in what should be a covert operation.' Jane replied.
'Well I can't go!' Jay’s frustration, mostly at her own confinement, rather than anyone or anything in particular.
'I realise that Jayanti, I do.' Jane remained calm, the better to help Jay regain her composure. 'However I thought that you might have someone to send. What about Severine? Doesn't she have a military background?'
'Yes. Yes she does. Moreover, she has performed a number of covert operations herself...you’re right Severine would be perfect. Give me the details and I'll make it happen.'
10:35 28 December [09:35 28 December GMT]
Home of Mme Margaret-Julia Pascal, Felletin, Central France.
The ducks on her grandmother’s pond were happily nibbling at the food that was being provided. They didn't question why, how or whom. They just kept their heads down and enjoyed it whilst it lasted. Severine sighed as she threw some more food on to the edge of the pond. She couldn't remember when she had last felt this relaxed or content. She looked up and into the eyes of her lover. Anne-Marie returned the look, pausing from her own food throwing to do so. The ducks paused too, the food had stopped falling from the sky, and they looked up, wondering if it would come again. One of the ducks quacked, then another and another, soon they were all at it, calling to the sky for more food. The food returned and they were content. Severine envied the life of these ducks. Their peace was disturbed by Severine's grandmother calling her from the house. There was someone on the phone for her.
Severine hung up the phone. Her grandmother saw the look on her face and resigned herself to confronting Anne-Marie. Whatever that woman has done or is doing, my Severine deserves to know where she stands. She deserves to know, before she goes off risking her life.
Severine disappeared into the garden to tell Anne-Marie the news. Margaret-Julia watched her granddaughter talk to her lover through the kitchen window. There was no mistaking it, it was love on Severine's side, but what Anne-Marie truly felt was hidden. Only Severine could uncover the truth, and only then if Anne-Marie wished it. She could see that Anne-Marie was crying now, the news broken to her. Tears, she wondered, of what type are you? Loss, Joy, Sorrow, Frustration or just plain crocodile? I will have it out with you and I will do so now. Margaret-Julia's blood was continuing to rise; it had been doing so since she had had the news back from her friend in the police. Anne-Marie La Courtine did not exist. Not the name nor the person. He had been quite thorough and had only halted his investigation when he had come up against resistance at a senior level. Whoever this imposter is, she is heavily connected, he had informed Margaret-Julia.
Severine finished hugging Anne-Marie; she left her by the pond and came into the house.
'I'm going to be gone for a while, so I need to pack.' Severine informed her grandmother as she headed towards her room.
'OK mon cheri, call if you need anything.'
Margaret-Julia took the opportunity and headed over to the pond where Anne-Marie was.
'It's about time you told Severine the truth.' She was not one to beat about the bush.
Anne-Marie's face flashed cold for an instance. There it is, again. Margaret-Julia noted. That brief look of guilt, anger, and shame.
'Excuse me?' Anne-Marie replied.
'You are not who you say you are. You are not Anne-Marie La Courtine. Even if you have changed your surname, you are not the person you pretend to be. I don't know who or what you are but know these two things. First, tell Severine the truth, she deserves it. If you don't I shall before she leaves. Secondly if you cause her any harm you will have me to deal with...and I don't care how important your connections are.'
She turned promptly on her heels and left before Anne-Marie could protest or respond in any way. As Margaret-Julia walked back towards her house, her hands were shaking as the adrenaline in her system turned sour. She had done and experienced much in her long life. More than she had ever admitted to Severine. She knew she was not a woman to trifle with.
Severine placed her suitcase in the hall. Unlike her days in the army when she had packed her kit bag, she didn't have any protocol to follow. This was a mission without a mission. The rules were hers to make or break. She had no weapons, no uniform, and no camouflage. Civilian clothes were the only option and she packed those that she thought would attract the least attention. Skirts rather than trousers, cut just above the knee, white blouses, heeled shoes but nothing like stilettos. In short she had decided to go for moderate dressy and attractive, the image she wanted was of a personal assistant, low management grade or similar. Someone to look at and forget in an instant.
She walked out into the garden. Anne-Marie had been crying again, Severine took Anne-Marie's hands and held them in hers. She squeezed them gently them kissed them and looked into her eyes.
'What is it?' Severine asked.
'This is not how I wanted to tell you. I wanted to pick the right time. The right place. I wanted...I need you to know how things have changed since we first met.'
'You're scaring me. Whatever it is we can deal with it. Just tell me.' The walls around Severine's heart, so recently disassembled were rapidly being rebuilt to protect against the trauma she could feel about to descend on her.
'Know that I love you. Have fallen deeply in love with you.' Anne-Marie began, 'There is no easy way to say this so I will just say it. I too work for Group 79. I have done so for the past ten years. It was not an accident that we met. The Group have been monitoring you closely long before your Courts-Martial. I was tasked with making contact with you and evaluating you for recruitment. I have undertaken other such assignments, but never have I fallen in love with them. I have never fallen in love with anyone before. You are my first, my only and I promise to you always to be honest. I too was on a mission. I hope you can understand that and forgive me. By the way, I am Julianne Chevalier. The man who recruited you, Monsieur Chevalier is my Uncle.'
As she finished Julianne was speaking very fast, almost tripping over her words, trying desperately to get everything out before Severine started to judge her. She could see that she was too late. Severine's face had taken on the quality of stone, the colour all drained away, the jaw set ridged, her eyes cold and hard. Julianne shrank back from her, afraid.
'I trusted you. I gave myself to you. It was all a lie. All a terrible, planned lie. I told you what had happened to me. You held me in your arms as I cried. Telling me you loved me, telling me how you cared for me. All a lie.'
'Please Severine, please.'
'I can't deal with this now. I have a mission.' Severine said as she made to leave.
'Severine please let's talk. Please!'
Severine didn't look back. She kissed her grandmother on both cheeks and left, the taxi ready for her outside. Margaret-Julia waited while the taxi pulled away, she lifted the phone and dialled. She had been watching the whole opera unfold in her own garden. Seen the looks the two had shared. She had decided. She wandered back into the garden and walked up to Julianne. The tears were real, no doubt about it this time.
'I have called a taxi for you.' She said evenly.
'I know I am not welcome here anymore. I'll collect my things and go.' Julianne said, thoroughly defeated.
'Actually,' Margaret-Julia said, 'I was thinking that if you were quick you could still catch Severine at the train station. Her train doesn't leave until half past. Time enough for a drink and a chance to talk some more, don't you think?'
'You. I was right about you.' Julianne said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
'Why? What did you say about me?'
'A wily old bird. One to watch.' Julianne embraced her and whispered in her ear, 'Thank you so much.'
11:20 28 December [10:20 28 December GMT]
Train Station, Clermont-Ferrand, Central France.
Severine relaxed into the seat as the train continued to gather speed. I still can't believe that Julianne called Mamie a Wily Old Bird, and to her face! Severine had cried most of the way from her grandmother's house to the train station. She had instantly regretted leaving like that, but was too stubborn to go back. Seeing Julianne walk onto the platform and then hearing that it was Mamie who had sent her there was not something she had been prepared to question. The look on Julianne's face, her touch, the smell of her hair; all combined to remind her, the things that truly matter. As her grandmother had once told her, if there is no room in your heart for forgiveness, then there is no room for love.
We only had twenty minutes before my train, she reflected, but it is amazing how much changed in those twenty minutes. Now she turned her mind towards the mission, confident for the first time that she had a real life to return to. As the train reached its maximum speed she smiled to herself and watched the countryside go by.
15:50 28 December [14:50 28 December GMT]
Charles de Gaul Airport, Paris, France.
Severine handed over her passport to the check-in clerk. She had been informed that a ticket would be waiting for her in her name. There was no need, yet, for false identities as no one was looking for her. She wondered if and when that might change. A woman called Solomon and her daughter Natasha, collect from Zurich and deliver to the Duke of Hertfordshire in England. That was all she had been told. She could guess more though. They must be in trouble, on the run from someone, else they could merely hop on a plane direct to England. Their lives must be threatened otherwise why send me? Above all, they must be important. These and other thoughts lounged around her mind, looking for somewhere to settle. She had little experience of this kind of thing. The missions she had undertaken normally ended with a single shot. Enemies of France beyond the normal reaches of the authorities. Some of her assignments had been troublesome; not technically, she was far too experienced for that, but morally. One person's despot is another's great leader; a revolutionary solider is another's freedom fighter. Nevertheless, for one reason or another, they had threatened France and it had been her duty to remove that threat. This appeared to be a simple rescue mission, why this mother and daughter were so important she couldn't imagine.
'The flight is not for an hour madam. If you would like to go to the Business Lounge while you wait.’
Severine had barley registered what the woman had said. She looked at her ticket and on it was printed Business Class. That was thoughtful of them, she thought, never having travelled in anything other than standard class.
'Thank you. The Business Lounge is....'
'That way madam.' The woman replied pointing the way.
The Business Lounge was quite busy she noted. Predominately men in suits talking loudly on the phone or to each other. Severine hated and pitied them at the same time. They seem to care so much about what they do. “Sales are up and that's fantastic.” “We have sold more this month than the competition.” “My bonus is going to be huge and bigger than my colleagues are.” If they all fell down dead I'm sure there would be ten more to replace each one. If all their companies stopped trading, would the world miss their products? I wonder if I should kill one and find out....
'Excuse me is this seat taken?' The gentleman in question was tall, good looking and another suit. Severine waved him to sit down.
'So where are you headed?' The man asked brightly.
'Zurich.' Severine replied without thinking.
'Cool. Conference or meeting?'
'Funeral.' She said wanting to end the conversation before it properly began.
'Oh. I'm so sorry. Anyone close?'
Damn is this guy trying to network or hit on me? 'My Great-Aunt.' Oh what... Severine defrosted and engaged the man in conversation. She had time to kill and she realised whilst this man sat here others were unlikely to join them. He was thirty-eight, claimed to be divorced, although she doubted this from the white ring where his wedding ring normally resided. Probably takes it off on every trip. He worked for one of the multi-nationals as some kind of consultant. He seemed pleased with himself, but more pleased to be talking to Severine. I bet he claims his wife doesn't understand him. She laughed out loud, unable to stop herself.
'What's so funny?' He asked.
'I'm sorry,’ she replied easily, 'I was just remembering my Great-Aunt, she was quite a woman.'
'Like her Great-Niece.'
Smooth, but a bit cheesy, Severine thought.
He looked at his watch. 'I must be going. Well it was nice to meet you Severine.' He reached out his hand to shake hers. Severine smiled and took his hand. She wrapped her hand around his thumb, held his forearm with her other hand and pulled him across the table, enough to unbalance him, but not so much that he fell. She whispered into his ear.
'How do you know my name? I never told you. Who are you and what do you want?' She put more pressure on his thumb. He groaned satisfactorily.
'OK' he said calmly, 'I work for Group 79. I was sent here to check up on you.'
She relaxed her grip a little.
‘I've never heard of them. I am on my way to a funeral.'
'In that case my apologies madam. It was my mistake.'
'Yes it was.' Severine released him and let him go on his way.
Jesus, they are everywhere.
The Tannoy announced her flight was boarding.
18:35 28 December [17:35 28 December GMT]
Zurich, Switzerland.
The taxi seemed to find its own way though the traffic and the streets. The driver was hardly involved. Severine relaxed and left him to find the hotel. She did however keep an eye on where they were going and where they had been. The incident in the airport had pulled her out of her slumber and placed her on high alert. If he had been an enemy, I would probably be dead now.
The taxi stopped outside the hotel. The driver got out to retrieve her suitcase from the boot and place it on the pavement for her. Severine walked into the lobby and realised this was the nicest hotel she had ever been in. Not that her experience of hotels was that extensive, it wasn't. However, she realised that this must be on the quality end of the scale. After checking in the porter showed her to her room, waiting anxiously for his tip, which after she realised what he was waiting for, she duly produced from her purse. The porter left, compensated but not impressed. Severine picked up the phone and dialled the room number she had for Solomon. She let it ring for a full minute and not getting any answer she showered and changed. Refreshed, she flipped through the hotel manual to discover it had a swimming pool and sauna. I could be waiting ages. Then she realised that she hadn't packed any swimwear. She called down to reception.
'But madam we have swimwear available in our shop.' The voice said.
>
'Excellent I'll be right down.'
The pool wasn't busy. A few guests were swimming, a couple more lying on loungers by the side. Severine eased herself into the water, the coolness enveloping her made a dramatic change from the stuffiness of the flight. She pulled a couple of gentle laps to loosen up and then began to exercise in earnest. On a return lap, a woman swam beside her, matching her stroke for stroke. She must have forgotten her costume too, as she is wearing one identical to mine. They continued like this for several more laps. The woman stopping first, she swam to one side where a young girl was doing widths. The girl had on the same patterned costume.
What are the odds? She wondered. How do I approach this? Severine swam over to them.
‘Hi’ Severine said, smiling at them both. 'I've just arrived. Could you recommend anywhere to eat?'
The woman blinked. 'No I'm sorry, we have not been here long ourselves.'
Severine noted the woman's strong accent. 'Oh that's a shame. I believe that there is a good restaurant here it was recommended by a friend, the Duke of Hertfordshire.'
The woman's eyes flashed noticeably. 'Oh really?' She was giving nothing more away.
'Yes. I am meant to be meeting some friends of his here. Solomon and Natasha, do you know them?'
'Who are you?'
'I'm Severine, and you are Solomon, aren't you.'
'Yes.' Solomon said quietly. She held her daughter close.
'Good. The Duke gave me a message for you. He said, he has tickets to the ballet.'
Solomon relaxed so much that she involuntarily bobbed under the water. She came back up spitting water at Severine.
'Sorry.' Solomon apologised. 'I don't know why I did that.'
'Fatigue. It's OK. I hear you have been on quite a journey. It's almost over. How about we get showered and dressed? Then we can talk about getting you to England.'
England, thought Solomon, paradise could not be more welcoming.
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